The 13-year-old boy

Today I received a letter I had written to myself from 6 years ago. I was so naive, and funnily enough, I still am. I haven't changed. Six whole years later and I haven't changed. That puts me at ease, to know that through thick and thins, the hates, the loves, the gained, the lost and everything else, I am still the same person.

The letter, which started off as an interesting concept and task, now took the shape of a prophecy. The contents held questions that I could now answer. The letter, from beginning to end, was cluttered with questions. And the resolve came from the author, me. I answered my own questions. The questions which seemed so profound at the time, but now are so utterly simplistic that my new batch of questions regarding life, God and death had easily overpowered them.

Though it was fun and reminiscent, I could not help feeling sad that that particular opportunity is now gone. The worries of high school heart-brakes , friends, enemies are now a thing of the past. Now I'm forced to find jobs, tolerate obnoxious managers, study, study and study.

Life six years ago was indeed different, better or worse, I can't say. But it's one part of my life, I'm now aware, that I'm never getting back. I say I lived it well.

But then, how can this area of my life top the previous? An attempt to outdo myself does sound quite evoking, let's move mountains.